The Daughter of The Dark Lord
by Konflickted
Summary: Lord Voldemort may be dead... but he left behind something that his supporters are desperate to find in hopes of bringing him back: His daughter.


No one was certain exactly how it all began. There were so many rumors, each one as wildly unbelievable as the next. In the center of it all was a small baby girl, barely old enough to be sitting up alone. She had intense blue eyes that had an eerie wisdom despite her age and this straight auburn hair. She had a little button nose that still had the look of infancy in it. She was wearing a little jumper and black dress shoes. She had lace trimmed sock and a ribbon in her hair. She sat alone on the sidewalk, looking over the blood spatter bodies of her family. The child was unharmed on the whole, but sat there staring transfixed at the bodies. Her mother, aunt, and cousins all lay still amass the screams. A young boy swooped up to her, lifting her into his arms and leading her away from the chaos. She did not resist, but instead followed along silently as if being carried away by the stranger was the most natural thing in the world.

It was hours before anyone had noticed that there had been a baby girl associated with the slain people. By then, the infant was long gone. She was safe and warm in a bed in a house in the country with an old woman and man who would become Granny and Pop-pop. A mass search of the city was limited by the government and the child was never recovered. It was decided that the likelihood that the Dark Lord would have ever actually had a child was laughable in the very least, and to let that child live and possible threaten his power by being the all knowing one was dismissed. The possible existence of a Dark Lord's child was covered up, a file lost in the Ministry's archive room.

Instead, there was great celebration across the land, for it was believed that the Dark Lord was gone and that the people were free. He had been thwarted by a family of young, desperately powerful wizard without so much as a hand raised by the young family. Something had broken the Dark Lord into a million of pieces when he tried to kill the mother, father, and their two small twin sons.

Weak and not even really alive nor dead, the Dark Lord went to his most trustworthy and faithful servant one last time in the man's dreams before disappearing until he was able to rise again. He told his most faithful servant of his suspicions that there was a child conceived in a mere moment of weakness between him and the slain woman, Esmeralda. He had let her live despite her refusal to join him. At the time he had felt foolish for letting such a tender woman better him, but now that he was neither alive nor dead, he knew that if the rumors were true that the small infant could mean his ultimate return to power.

"Find my child, Argufies. That child may hold the key to my return." The Dark Lord had whispered in the night, his voice just lower than a dream. The very young man, Argufies grunted and rolled over, accepting the dream as reality. The Dark Lord disappeared to the woods of a distant country to await the time in which he could rule again.

Granny Deacon was wide awake, despite the fact that it was still very much dark outside. She had already thrown open the kitchen door and been out twice to check on the cows, clicking disapprovingly that her grandchildren were not yet up. Pop-Pop Deacon was already drinking his morning coffee, black and hot. Granny turned on him.

"Those girls aren't up yet, and neither is that boy." She said waddling over to him, her hands on her hips.

"They'll be up soon, I am sure." Pop-pop said. Sure enough, three youngsters came bounding sleepily down the stairs. They were the most miss fitted group of kids. There was Searle, a heavy set black girl who was about twelve. She had a dark creamy chocolate colored skin and wild, wiry hair. She had big, white teeth that were always showing like a beacon on her pretty face when she smiled. The boy, Jeremiah, was tall like Searle with bright blue eyes, wavy black hair, and almost an olive coloring to his skin. He was fourteen, possibly fifteen. Then there was Squirt, as she was called. She was much smaller than the rest of them, without the meatiness that the other seemed to have. Her name was Hailey. She was just ten and a half years old, and she had bright intensively blue eyes and straight auburn hair. She was minute compared to her siblings, and tiny compared to most other people.

The three had come to live with Granny and Pop-pop as infants or small children, before any of them was old enough to remember life before living with them. They had a decent life, hard work built character and they were well cared for by Granny and Pop-pop. Hailey, Searle, and Jeremiah drank their coffee hot and black with no sugar, like Pop-pop and then headed out to the barn. Hailey took her place next to one of the large milking cows and began to fill her pail with the warm milk. After all of the cows were milked, Searle poured the tin pails into the storage tins. Jeremiah fed the chickens while Hailey went into the coup to retrieve the eggs. She tallied them up on the flow sheet that they used to determine what chickens were not performing and might end up a chicken dinner.

The five of them sat down for breakfast just after sun rise and ate quickly before the children headed to a near by school. The bus pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway, causing a cloud of dust to choke the three as they stepped forward to climb on and ride to school. The Deacon children weren't the poorest children in the area, but they were pretty plain. Searle and Hailey wore plain jumpers and Jeremiah wore slacks and a shirt. They were clean but old clothes. There were some kids that were dirty and not well taken care of. Searle sat with some friends of hers from school, Jeremiah joined the boys in the back of the bus, and Hailey sat behind the driver.

All day, while the kids were at school, Granny tended her garden and made jars and jellies from the vegetables and fruits that grew heartily on the farm. Pop-pop made cheese from the milk that they got from the cows. When the girls got home, they would start on the old fashion churn butter that was the Deacon Family Farm's signature money maker. It was one of Hailey's favorite things to do. For one, it didn't take any concentration once you got the rhythm down. She could day dream while she churned butter.

Hailey was sitting on the front porch churning butter that afternoon when an old car pulled to a stop in front of the house. Hailey looked up as two men, one too old to be allowed and one who looked like he was too young to even be driving. They headed toward the front porch that Hailey was sitting on, churning butter. The young man needless nudged the old man, for the old man's eyes were fixed on Hailey. There was a curious look in them

"Are your parents home child?" The old man asked slowly in his ancient voice.

"Pardon me, sir. My parents do not live her. Just my sister, brother, and grandparents live here." Hailey said still churning the cream into butter.

"Well, may I have a word with Mr. and Mrs. Deacon?" The old man said. The girl nodded once quickly and retreated into the house. Hailey found Granny in the kitchen mixing a big bowl.

"Granny, there are two men out in the front that are asking to speak with you and Pop-pop. A young guy and an old guy," Hailey said to her grandmother. The woman visibly stiffened.

"Strange folk, are they," Granny questioned. She peered out the window. "Sprout, go tell Pop-pop that the men from the school are back."

Hailey went out the back door, letting the screen door slam as she went through. She found Pop-pop in the barn pitching hay. He read her face and set his pitch fork against the barn wall and left Hailey trailing after him like a puppy. Pop-pop and Granny exited to the front porch and met the two men there.

"Ah, what a pleasure to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Deacon," the old man said. He had a friendly, yet weathered face. Everyone shook hands while Hailey, Jeremiah, and Searle peeked through the curtains.

"Mr. Hawthorn, Mr. Vega, what an unexpected surprise." Mr. Deacon said, ushering the men to some chairs there on the porch.

"Surely you knew we would be back for the girl." The old man said kindly. He looked at Mrs. Deacon and smiled. "She'll be all right, Mrs. Deacon. You have done a wonderful job at raising her."

"Mr. Hawthorn, she is my daughter." Granny said in a sweet old womanly voice. The old man, who was obviously Mr. Hawthorn, smiled sadly.

"She will be taken care of very well at my school. We feel it is for the best that she comes with us now." Mr. Hawthorn said firmly.

"I will go get the child." Mr. Deacon said softly ignoring his infuriated wife. He turned to her firmly. "We knew that she would be with us until she was this old. They have given us this much time with Hailey."

"You will still have contact with her for as long as we can allow it." Mr. Hawthorn promised. He nodded at the young guy, Mr. Vega, who stood and followed Mr. Deacon into the house. Hailey stood absolutely still as Pop-pop's eyes fell upon her.

"Child, go upstairs and pack your things." Pop-pop said without any explanation. Hailey was a bitty little thing who always listened and she didn't speak a word of hesitation. Searle and she flew up the stairs to pack the few items that solely belonged to Hailey. Searle grabbed a glass sphere out of her sock drawer and pressed it into Hailey's hand.

"No, Searle, that is your most treasured item." Hailey protested trying to hand it back to Searle.

"No, Hailey. Take it with you and think of me." Searle said. She hugged her sister tightly. Hailey wrapped the glass sphere in a pair of her socks and stuffed it into her little suitcase. She returned downstairs in just a short while to find that the old man and the young man were waiting on the porch for her. Granny held her for the longest hug she had ever given Hailey before the young man stepped forward and took Hailey by the hand. He led her to the car and placed her in the vehicle while Mr. Hawthorn finished things with the Deacons.

Hailey Deacon sat silently in the car as it pulled onto the highway and away from the Deacon Homestead. Mr. Vega looked back at the child in the rear view mirror. He wondered when Mr. Hawthorn would clear things up and explain. He wondered how much information the child would find out. His answers came when the three stopped for dinner at a diner near the motel that they would be staying at for the night.

"Hailey Deacon, I am Mr. Hawthorn and this is Mr. Vega. We are both from a very special place. You incidentally are from the same place. The place is called Edgewood. It is a very special place."


End file.
